Reality Hurts
by Mettemorphose
Summary: One. Two. Three. It's not a fun game, but it keeps them both alive, while separated. Effie is being held captive in the Capitol in a tiny cell, while Haymitch finds District 13's sparsity of liquor prison enough. They both share the nightmares. But they've only just begun and when President Snow takes a liking in the former escort, things turn for the worse. HAYEFFIE!
1. One

**AN: **_I decided to write another Hayeffie, but this is mostly because I'm fascinated by torture (that sounded wrong) and it seemed to make more sense to do this with Haymitch and Effie, since Caesar (my main ship with Effie) is executed in my mind after Mockingjay and we know he's in the Capitol during pretty well during this, since he's interviewing Peeta and stuff. So here it is. __**Don't read if you find sexual abuse, graphic violence and the like triggering or just simply gross. **__The M rating is there for a reason. _

**The Capitol**

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

This was a game that could never be won, she knew. But still a game, which kept her conscious. Counting the seconds between each scream, transferred to her cell by the ducts in the ceiling. She didn't know who they belonged to, but she charted them. Usually there was a rhythm to it. Six of her deep, miserable breaths and there would be another scream. Three more and a kind of aftershock of a sobbing sound would sound. She often wondered if she sounded like that as well, when _they_ came to her cell with the knives and syringes. She didn't think much of the types of physical pain they could put her through. They still thought she knew something she didn't already tell them. Her knees rested on the dirty ground. The cell hadn't been cleaned since she got thrown in here 3 weeks and 4 days ago. She charted the days as well, by counting her meals and the interrogations, which more or less just was torture now. She remembered one of the guards saying to her, that he knew she hadn't anything to say, but that he also couldn't pass an opportunity to blow some steam.

They made her do the most gruesome things. She tried to fantasize herself away to somewhere else while they touched her, but she was so used to _his _hands by now, that she would never be able to even just lose a tiny bit of focus during these things. They'd shown her videos of Peeta, how he talked about the rebellion. He was hijacked, they told her that as well. They threatened her. Told her they were going to do it to her as well, but she knew better. Why hijack a Capitol citizen? There was no point.

One. Two. Three. Scream. An eyebrow movement made a slight wrinkle on her forehead. They were different screams. They didn't come from the ducts. She tried opening her mouth to yell, as she realized she heard cell doors open. She heard the voices of known rebels from the Capitol. Her mouth was like sewn shut. She wanted to scream, but couldn't. Instead she clanked her wrist chain towards the wall, but nothing happened. It didn't make much of a sound.

"They left you, Trinket, didn't they?" He said as he pulled out the iron from the flame. In the dim light she couldn't see anything detailed about it other than it was glowing with head. She thought she could hear it sear, but it was probably just her imagination. This would hurt. Her body prepared for the pain by giving up. The first few weeks she had fought them, but they broke her. She knew. She could put a finger on the exact day where she stopped crossing her legs to make it difficult for them and when she started just closing her eyes, waiting for the whip to hit.

"They didn't know I was here, if Haymitch –" Effie tried to say, even though her voice was flat and monotone as a vacuum cleaner with a full bag.

"Yeah… About your little friend," His dark eyes glistened with lies and deceit, but then again they always did, even when she knew he was telling the truth. He took a hold of her shoulder and nearly smashed her face into the small table he'd set up in front of her. Normally her cell was unfurnished. He ripped at the shoulder part of the remaining part of the black dress she'd worn the day they took her. She was kind of happy it was black, that made the bloodstains sink into the fabric and disappear. Well, what was left of the fabric. She smelled the smell of burnt flesh before the pain reached her mind and she let out a scream. Then another one. No she did not wait six breaths to scream again. But she did nothing more than this. One. Two. Three. She heard herself sobbing, but felt no tears coming down her face. Maybe she was too numb to feel them or maybe they just simply weren't there. Some sort of irrational curiosity hit her. What was she branded with? Was this their new way of marking their livestock? She wished she could be killed. The man had made it very clear that Haymitch was dead. She believed him, why wouldn't she. She'd heard the screams. And even though a few of the rebels might have gotten away with the reckless rescue mission, she knew some one died. She'd seen the body be transported when one of the guards opened the door to give her a plate of food.

So she dryly cried herself to sleep once again with no desire to ever wake up.

* * *

**District 13**

He woke up in cold sweat. His eyes darted wildly around the room and he grabbed for the knife under the pillow. There was no one in the room.

"Goddamnit," he muttered under his breath and got out of bed. He was wide awake.

"My kingdom for a drink," he continued dramatically to the empty room. He preferred the Capitol quirkiness to this place. Sterile and clean and the only alcohol present was used for polishing shoes or tending to injuries. His room was too small. He never thought he'd miss the house in Victors Village back in 12, but he did.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. He'd made up a game as well, counting the seconds from a thought made its appearance 'till the physical illness came over him. It happened like clockwork every time she crossed his mind, which wasn't a rare occurrence. She was dead, he was convinced of that. Otherwise they'd had started using her. Unless… _Unless she isn't tv-ready, _the small voice in his head informed her. _If they broke her down so far, she can't sit, walk or talk, they can't use her. _His breathing quickened.

The screen hummed. It bothered him more than he would like to admit. He'd think a district with this kind of technological advantage could make a goddamn computer screen stop saying sounds. He'd been on surveillance duty for a few hours now. Watching the corridors of the cellar where the Capitol kept the remaining prisoners. Nothing much happened here, but he had been playing that game a lot during the time. Every time he heard a scream he thought of her. If she'd thought of _him_, during her time there.

One. Two. Three. His game was interrupted by something that made him equally sick to his stomach and spiked his brain with a sort of hope. He knew _that_ body. He heard the guard shout at her and place her in the corridor. She could run. She could crawl. She could make a run for it, but she didn't she stayed put, while the guard called on a few others.

Haymitch yelled for someone. The hope in him was replaced by anger. He didn't know who stood in front of him, but who ever it was had to deal with him.

"Get me Plutarch, right now! And Coin. Get me the whole damn army!" He demanded harshly.

"Sir… Mr Abernathy, sir…" The tiny woman in front of him tried to reason with him. She looked at his screen and shook her head. She didn't recognize the bubbly escort from 12.

When Plutarch finally reached the surveillance room, Effie had been thrown back into her cell.

* * *

**The Capitol**

The cell floor had caught on fire. She didn't know how it happened, because the only thing in there, which had the potential to catch fire, was her. And the stuff she left on the floor, being it blood, food or excrement. She was never good with chemistry and stuff, but she couldn't really see what could catch fire. After all she didn't care. It was good for her to get some relatively fresh air outside her little, isolated cell. They had to clean it too, but they said they'd do that tomorrow. She got another cell until then. Shared with someone.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Scream. This was obviously where the screams came from, the ones she'd made her little game over. The man in front of her had a faint resemblance to someone she once saw win the games. Probably an old victor. She didn't care. Couldn't care. A part of her really wanted to feel sympathy towards the man, but looking between her own injuries, scars and wounds and his she couldn't. Compared to her, he was treated like a king. She didn't really talk much to him. She didn't want to know him, if one day the screams stopped and she was forced to deal with the loss of him. If she didn't know him, she wouldn't have to care. He seemed to have the same idea, so he kept quiet.

* * *

**District 13**

"You need to go back," Haymitch said and clenched his hand into a fist. He felt his face heated with anger.

"We can't go back, Haymitch… I'm very sorry for the loss, but-"

"It's not a loss yet, Plutarch!" Haymitch shouted at him, not caring for the silence his raised voice left in the room. Nobody moved. Nobody dared even click a ball pen.

"She was never crucial for the plan, it sounds cold, but she is just another Capitol citizen," Plutarch closed his eyes for a few seconds, but the blinding hit from the enraged man in front of him gave him other things to think about than the impending headache. He staggered back a few steps.

"_You! _are nothing but a _Capitol citizen,_ Plutarch, don't forget where you came from!" Haymitch yelled so loud he felt some of the small blood vessels in his eyes burst. He wanted to beat the man again, but he was held back by the bystanders, who had first reacted when he laid hand on their boss.

"Get him to the hospital," Plutarch Heavensbee told them. "Tell them the truth and say that I gave the order to calm him down,"

Haymitch didn't fight the restraints they put on him on the way to the hospital wing. He didn't fight when one of the medics gave him a small dose of calming medicine. But he did want to fight, when a heavy, dreamful sleep began to take him. He fought to stay awake. He knew what the dreams had for him if he fell asleep.

One. Two. Three. He felt ill. The memory of her soft lips on his. He wondered what they'd done to her. It wasn't as much the thought of her still being there, well it was, but what bothered him the most was the resigned look of her. She was broken. Maybe it was better for her just to die. _Don't think like that! _something inside him screamed. _If you think like that, you're killing her. _He fell asleep.

"There is no way… I know, listen Beetee, I don't really know the depth of this… Relationship they had going, but it would be so much better for him if he forgot," At first Haymitch couldn't figure out who this voice belonged to, but as he slowly regained more and more of his wits he realized it was Gale. They must have sedated him even further, bit he didn't remember being violent or doing anything to cause that. He kept his eyes closed.

"She _is_ one of them after all,"

"Oh, I don't think you know what she did for this, Gale" Beetee said with a slight spark of anger in his voice.

"Well, to me, she's the mean monster who came and led children to their death with a smile on her face," Gale said and Haymitch heard the echoing steps of him leaving. He dared open his eyes and looked up at Beetee.

"He didn't mean that, Mitch," Beetee said nervously. "Listen. I know … I have this machine, it's still in it's experimental phase, but… It has to be tested somehow, don't it?"

He explained quickly how he'd built some kind of mech suit down in the armory. You could sit in the district and use the built in cameras to look and walk using motion sensors. The suit or robot or whatever wasn't much bigger than a small child and was built with a chameleon feature to blend in with its surroundings. Haymitch listened to everything Beetee said, even though he only understood about half of it.

"If I can get it on the next hovercraft going to the Capitol it shouldn't be too hard," he concluded, "We just need to convince Coin," He said the next thing with more insecurity.


	2. Two

_(__**AN: **__I'm really surprised as to how much response I got in so few hours of posting this. I know you guys who keep me on story alert want to read more, so I wrote a bit more :3 Thank you ever so much! __**Once again we have graphic violence, sexual abuse and all sorts of other things, DON'T read if you find that inappropriate or triggering**__)_

**The Capitol**

She had been moved back into her own cell, but she had lost track of time. She didn't know if she'd been in the shared cell with the man for three days or if he just got food more often than her. She suspected the latter, but couldn't be sure. So she added 2 days to her internal calendar. Better safe than sorry. Her cell had been cleaned roughly, but she could breathe, almost smile to see that all the blood on the floor was gone. The first few times the various men had … used her, she'd thrown up from disgust and pain and that too had been lying on the floor, crating a horrid stench. She didn't do that anymore. They didn't want to make her bleed much either. The burn mark itched like crazy, but she couldn't reach it. One of the bones in her left arm was broken, she suspected.

And then there was silence. Everywhere. Losing one or gaining one day in her chart was one thing, but for several days nothing happened. She heard no voices, footsteps or got any meals at all. The hunger pangs sent shivers through her body, which responded by giving her another dose of pure pain. Then she heard it. Well, at first she thought she had just gone mad and the low mechanical sound was just her brain shutting down from dehydration. Then she heard her door slam open and she felt her body getting ready for another round of 'how much can she take before she passes out' by default. Loosening up all muscles and closing her eyes were just some of the things she did every time someone came in here, only this time it was not someone, but some_thing._

**District 13**

"We're in Haymitch, but… I think you should stay over there," Beetee said. The robot had worked perfectly but the biggest test was yet to come. If he could get her to the hovercraft in one piece. He looked at the screen, a tiny sweat drop rolling down his forehead. Haymitch had somehow managed to get a bottle of white liquor and he sat with his back turned to the screen and a feeling in his stomach, which made him want to throw up, more than the alcohol did.

"Is she hurt?" He asked with a thick voice and looked around so fast that his neck gave a snap and a sharp pain shot through him. He half ran, half fell towards the screen only to realize Beetee was right. He didn't really want to see her like this, curled up in the corner.

"What _is_ that?" He pointed at the screen to her shoulder where the deep brand showed against her otherwise pale skin. The personal seal of President Snow. A rose. Haymitch felt the liquor on its way up, as he looked over her body, seeing the scars and still open sores and bruises left behind by the Capitol guards. He grabbed a nearby garbage bin and saw as his breakfast and lunch was fated to end between ripped up pieces of unimportant paper, used a thousand times and over again. Nothing was wasted here.

"Can I talk to her?" Haymitch asked as he saw Effie curiously looking at the thing that just entered her cell. She had that wrinkle between her eyebrows that made her look like she was thinking about something really, really hard.

"Just let me make a few adjustments," Beetee said and made a few lines of code appear on the screen next to the live feed from the camera. "It should work now, but be swift, I don't know how long I can keep the line open,"

"Haymitch?" she said suspiciously. "You're lying," she concluded.

"I'm not, Effie… oh," Haymitch never expected their first conversation after all this time to go like this. But then, he never expected her to be alive either. She couldn't see him, but he could see that her entire body had begun to shake.

"They told me you were dead," she said. "And frankly I believe them. Whatever trick you're playing, please stop. Just do what you came here to do and get it done,"

"Effie, calm down, they'll hear you," Haymitch said and felt as if she was pulling his heart out.

"_They? _Don't you mean _you?_ " She started laughing hysterically and a loud sound made the camera go to static. Her voice faded out with a screech that rung in both men's ears. Beetee was quick to turn it off.

"She must have broken it, Haymitch I'm really sorry…" Beetee obviously couldn't find his words.

"I'm going to go now," Haymitch said, fetching his bottle of alcohol. He had an urge to do as her and start laughing. But he had a similar urge to start crying and hitting someone.

"Haymitch, please don't …"

"It's not your fault Beet, I need to be alone,"

There was not much to wreck in his tiny compartment. He had literally ripped the storing unit out of the wall and scattered his few possessions across the room like he was looking for something. If he was, he had found it anyway. The tiny little jewellery box containing the gold bangle he'd worn during the second quarter quell to look like a team alongside with Katniss' pin and Effie's wig. Her wig. He'd never liked it, but she had. He put on the bangle and looked at his wrist, where his timetable was also temporarily tattooed on his skin. He shook his head as he thought about how much Effie would love district 13, because though some of the peppy, bubbliness was a façade, he knew her compulsive planning and charting was something she enjoyed. She would be perfect for organizing the timetables for everybody here. He took a swig from the bottle and looked through the mess on his floor again. His eyes fell back onto the box. He lifted the soft protecting foam and took out a lock of strawberry blonde hair from underneath it. She'd given it to him as a joke, because he always thought she should use her own hair more often. He remembered her laughing so hard, when he put it up to his own head and proclaiming it was the only wig he'd ever use. One. Two. Three… What's the point? He didn't need to count to feel miserable.

**The Capitol**

The machine still stood in front of her, but she'd resumed to her curled up position in the corner. She knew who it was, who stood in the doorway of her cell, but she didn't want to look at him. She _smelled _him. Someone had shot a bullet through the machine. Another had done the same, just to make sure. It was dead.

"Effie Trinket," His arrogant voice started, "Stand up!"

She did what he told her to, there was no use in disobeying, but she could hardly stand on her weak knees and with the aching in her body.

"Coriolanus," she greeted him and fell to her knees when they buckled under her. He snapped his fingers and a few of his personal guards grabbed her.

"It's your turn now," He gently cupped one of her cheeks with his hands as the guards moved past him and looked deeply into her eyes, "We could forget all this you know. We could teach them to leave you behind," A dangerous look was in his eyes as he made his proposal.

"But first let get you into some clean clothes. That mark on your shoulder, it means you're now mine, I own you, okay. So don't try anything, _Trinks,_" The hand on her cheek went away for a short second before it returned with great power and left another mark on her. Just a bruise for the collection she thought, but something inside her came back to life. Slowly, like a sick child going out into the sun for the first time.

"What did you call me?" she asked defiantly.

"Trinks. Isn't that what that drunk used to-" Snow stopped when she spat on him. The dehydration made this very hard, but if she had to waste her last precious drops of leftover fluid it would be to mock this man.

"I think…" As he dried of the tiny, almost pathetic attempt at a rebellious gesture, his voice darkened "That you will learn to regret pulling a stunt like that," He left her and let the guards take her to a much cleaner room with a bathroom. She was presented with food and drink and after a day of rehydrating and getting filled up.

At first she was overly excited about getting to take a bath, but then, as she stood with a hand on the knob to turn on the warm, cleansing water she re-thought that. This was too weird. This wasn't happening. What were they trying to do? Suddenly it hit her. They'd shot the machine, talking to her. The machine expressing it wanted to 'save' her. They'd shot it, because they were scared of it. And the only thing the Capitol feared was the rebels. The rebels in district 13. The next realization hit her so hard it almost swept her of her feet. Haymitch. Haymitch had talked to her through it. He was alive! She saw herself smile in the mirror. She looked down at her frozen hand on the knob over the bathtub. Maybe this was just Snow's elegant way of dealing with her. What'd he said? _It's your turn now. _Her turn to what? Die? She sighed and turned the knob anyway. If there was poisonous gas in the tap, it was embedded in the water, which now ran with a rosy smell and a faint pink bubble. She shook her head. Yeah, this was weird, but at least she could die clean. She removed the robe she'd found in a drawer in the main room.

Her naked body was unrecognizable, even to herself. She looked at the scars. The bruises – a fresh one was still on her face, where Snow had made his mark yesterday. She was famished and as she ran her hands down her ribcage she could count every bone. Her breasts were almost non-existent anymore. The arm, which she had mistaken for broken felt a bit better, now just giving her a pulsating, dull pain, seemingly something she'd knock out with a tiny dose of painkiller-medicine. There was no medicine in the cabinet though. She turned her back to the mirror and tried her best to look over her shoulder. She saw the burn mark Snow had mentioned. She clearly remembered the searing pain from getting it, but it was slowly beginning to blister and dry out. There seemed to be some infection, Her back was slashed open several places with whiplashes. None of them had had time to heal and the first ones were merely scabbing. What really looked bad was her inner thighs and crotch area. It looked like someone had dragged an asphalt pole between her legs and made her sit on it. She never realized that the abuse could lead to such damage. Well, she knew the whiplashes and the burn mark would be there, but this. It didn't look like her at all.


	3. Three

(**AN: **I'm liking where this is going. I've been thinking about a scenario like this for a while, bot necessarily with Hunger Games, but it fits in so nicely. I hope you like it! I'm trying very hard to keep to the timeline of Mockingjay, but some things are hard to plot in, so if there is holes or continuity mistakes, please excuse them.

There will probably be one or two more chapters until this will be marked complete. Could you guys maybe give me an idea for the next thing to write? :D)

* * *

**District 13**

Haymitch hadn't slept for a long time. Nobody had said anything to him about missing his duties and he intended to keep it that way by keeping a low profile for a while. Beetee and him had gone to watch the recordings from the tiny camera, where he had first seen Effie alive. The rebels had planted it the time they rescued Peeta along with some others. _But not her, _he thought, _she's Capitol trash to them. _He'd watched as she tried to spit on Snow. He was almost certain he'd even seen the light change in her eyes from the dead, resigned look to a gleam of defiance. For a short second that made him smile, but his smile faded as quickly as it'd come. She would be impossible to get to now. They didn't even know where she was, but he suspected Snow had taken her to his mansion.

There had been signs of it earlier, hadn't there? He remembered once talking to the escort at a banquet. She'd dragged him along even though their tributes were dead already and he was going home the next day. Snow was the guest of honour. Maybe even the one inviting, he didn't remember. But he clearly recalled seeing Snow glancing towards them, even though all they ever did that night was dance and talk. Nothing more. Effie never wanted it official and that worked out perfectly for Haymitch. Even though he hadn't had many friends back then it would seem so weird for him to fall in love with something he wanted to hate so much. _How silly, _his brain chose to tell him, _you could have had her. She'd have moved to 12 with you if you asked. It's your fault. _

He _knew _what they were doing to her. Knowing was one thing, admitting was another. Coin looked at him and sighed.

"You're not the Mockingjay, Mr Abernathy, we don't depend on your wellbeing," she said and he had to restrain himself to not hit her. She spoke of Katniss as a leech on her, a necessary leech.

"You're not new to losses either," she continued. She'd called him down here personally. Well, she'd sent someone with the message.

"And frankly Effie Krinket-"

"Trinket," Haymitch corrected her with a snapping voice.

"Effie is not crucial for our plan, I gave you and Beetee a chance because I liked the idea, but now…"

"Send _me_ to the Capitol then, let _me_ try," Haymitch didn't want to beg, but he knew that his red eyes and his trembling voice didn't do much to help him seem strong.

"I can't, you know that," She shook her head.

"Would you let this happen to someone _you _loved, Alma?" Haymitch knew he was playing with fire, but a large part of him didn't care. And the rest of him actually _wanted _her to be mad enough to think of him as disposable, so he could do whatever the hell he pleased. Her grey eyes turned to small lines and he saw her internal fight not to pull out her gun and shoot him. _Do it, _something inside him hoped for her to do it. Suddenly his life seemed so worthless. He was 41 years old and he hadn't ever done anything right. He thought he had, when he won the Quell way back, but the Capitol's reaction to it, killing his family told him otherwise. He thought he had when he helped rescue and stop the second Quell, but now… It didn't matter much anymore. He hated himself for thinking he'd have dropped the thought of rebellion for her any day. He would have sacrificed both Katniss and Peeta in the arena if he could have her back alive. But all those thoughts came too late. It was all too late.

* * *

**The Capitol**

"Take off your clothes," he commanded and leaned back in the comfortable looking leather chair. Effie stood in front of him, a guard on each side, ready to tase her if she tried anything. She'd tasted the shock from a taser several times before, but she somehow knew these guns where loaded with something a little more than just the stingy shock she'd got from the regular guard's guns.

"Why?" she demanded to know and closed her eyes, waiting for a shock. It didn't come.

"Because I'd like to inspect my property," He was a snake, she thought, a fucking snake with small glistering eyes and she wanted to kill him. She couldn't think of anything to say to him, that was the worst. Not one remark that would make him cringe or weaken. He was way too strong for her, both mentally and physically.

So she started undressing. Slowly and with lots of trouble, shaking hands and hardly tied knots. If she'd known she was going to be doing this, she wouldn't have chosen something pretty to wear from the drawers in her room. She'd have chosen something that could quickly give him the fix he wanted, so she could go. She had decided what to do last night while a medic was fixing up bandages for her wounds. Suicide had never crossed her mind before; sure she'd often thought she was better off dead, even before this rebellion happened. Every time Haymitch went home from the games and left her alone to deal with the paperwork and planning for next year, for example. Sometimes she'd been scared that one of their tributes would win and Haymitch would retire as mentor and never come to the Capitol again. He hated the place, she knew.

She wasn't wearing a bra, there hadn't been one in the room so, when she was down to just her panties, she stopped and looked at him. No, she wouldn't beg. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. She counted the seconds until his meltdown, until he did, what he wanted to do. A terrible feeling came over her, and she realized she would rather die than letting him touch her. Maybe those taser guns weren't such a bad idea after all.

His chair creaked as he got up from it, she heard the sound of the leather sliding against the expensive fabric of his pants, but she didn't see him anymore. Her eyes were shut close so hard it almost hurt and the tears were getting her eyelashes tangled up. Her knees decided they didn't want to carry her anymore and she fell to the floor, sending shivers of pain through her already aching body. Yes the medics had done a good job, but she knew Capitol medicine well enough to know that they could take the pain away easily. They'd _chosen_ not to, most likely following orders from a certain president. Though she was ready for the worst she still winced when she felt his dead cold hands on her body.

* * *

**District 13**

He lied and said he was going to go down to Beetee to discuss some plans. President Coin probably knew very well that he was lying, but she couldn't do much about it. He did go down to Beetee, but only to beg. He didn't have many friends in this district, but then again he hadn't had many friends in twelve. And in the Capitol he only had one and she… He stopped himself. If this had happened to anybody else but himself, he'd have told the person to get over it. To call it a lost cause and start the grieving process, so it could end at some point. He wasn't sure a grieving process over Effie would ever end for him, especially not without alcohol.

"Get me there," he pleaded. "I just want to see her one time, I don't care if I'm killed, if I get there it means I did _something,_". Beetee obviously wasn't used to people behaving like this around him and it was also painfully clear that he had no control over what happened, and who were on those hovercrafts.

"If the _Mockingjay _is going to the Capitol, then _I _am going to the Capitol," Haymitch continued.

"Coin would never-" Beetee started, but he stopped himself when he saw the desperate look on Haymitch's face "You don't care, do you?" He asked in a low voice.

"The Starsquad is going to the Capitol in 4 days, I'm going to be on that hovercraft whether that heartless grey goose wants it or not,"

"You're not going to just _walk _into Snow's mansion, Mitch," Beetee tried.

"I thought about jumping into his rose garden from a craft," Haymitch said with a heartless laughter. His sarcastic voice was so sad and miserable that Beetee just sat in silence for a while. Then he continued the work he'd been doing when Haymitch tumbled down here. Haymitch liked it. The silence, the clanks of metal and the shift of papers. It calmed him down a bit and gave him time to think.

* * *

**The Capitol**

Of all the things they'd done to her here, the tender care which Snow's assistants showed her as they led her back to her room, was the creepiest. They'd _seen_ what'd just happened and yet they chatted to her as if everything was normal, as if she was just visiting and needed a place to crash. She faintly recognized one of them, but the name was so far away she wouldn't even be able to reach it under normal conditions.

"That dress looks so amazing on you," one of them would say.

"How did you get so skinny?" another one would ask.

And it freaked her out. They _knew_, but they probably saw it as an honour. Shagging the boss. Perhaps they were even jealous or just slightly envious. She didn't care; she just wanted to sit in the corner of the shower in her room. She didn't know why it was so different when it was him. Possibly because she'd always stood up for him, when the other escorts at her office talked badly about his choice of anything. She'd been so loyal to the nation. Panem had been her perfect paradise. The Games didn't even bother her until she heard Haymitch crying silently in his bedroom from the nightmares still terrorizing him. Even then she just thought it was something else. She pulled a face when a memory of her trying to reason with Haymitch over the death of his family. Suddenly she understood why he sometimes called her those names and saw her as a disgusting product of the Capitol. _A product now broken and owned by the president himself, _she thought and the pain from her burn mark felt fifteen times worse.

* * *

**District 13**

It took him some time to process that he was actually on the hovercraft. He had never thought it'd be possible even with his non-caring, zero-tolerance mood, that didn't care if he was killed by the District 13 guards. It'd been easy actually; he'd just walked on. He suspected getting _off _the hovercraft would be the hard part of this, but even a small victory was a victory. He looked at Katniss and felt a pang of guilt. He was supposed to be her mentor, Peeta's to, but he hadn't exactly lived up to his duties.

"Katniss," He had to say something, right?

"What are you even doing here, Haymitch?" she asked.

"I'm sorry for being so distant, you know…"

"Did you find the alcohol?" Same fire as always, he thought. She could do this without him. All grown up. _Our kids, _Effie had sometimes called them, when they watched the Games together, _our deadly, little murder-machine kids._

"You remember Effie Trinket?" he asked. If anyone would understand, maybe it was Katniss, who'd been separated from Peeta all this time.

"Who could forget?" Katniss replied with a slight giggle. "She's probably all messed up about not being able to get hair dye or something,"

"Effie doesn't dye her hair," Haymitch snapped at her. "She was left behind by the team that saved Peeta and Johanna," he explained. They were sitting in a remote corner of the room and nobody seemed to mind them. It was hard to talk about, but sharing this with someone who just had the slightest chance of understanding. He saw the surprise in her face as her mind put together the pieces.

"Oh, … Oh," she said silently. "Where is she now?"

Haymitch shook his head. "I don't know. Last time she was on the cameras Snow took her with him," It became easier for him to talk about. Maybe he should have told someone other than Beetee earlier.

"Haymitch, I'm sure if Gale had known she was down there…"

"Oh he knew, Everdeen, he knew, but the way that guy can get worked up over something. Calling her a monster,"

"Well, she wasn't a monster, but she was … More like a rare bird in the district right? Like a parrot," Katniss tried, but like Haymitch she wasn't good with words. Haymitch spent the rest of the trip imagining Effie with beautiful colourful feathers and wings to just fly wherever she pleased.


	4. Four

(**AN: **I've had a few rough days and it's tough for me to write anything right now, but I'm trying the best I can to work through it (got some pretty bad grades, fell back into some stupid old habits and other personal stuff) but I think I am back now and writing makes me feel good, so let's continue on that way! :D

I've had to compromise with some of the continuity in this. Some of the things may not match up exactly to the Mockingjay timeline, but's all for the good of the story. Also: I just remembered that I see Snow very differently from the movie portrayal, as I see him as some kind of Voldemort with hair… So, yeah.

Freud would have a party analysing some of the shit I write, but to each his own.)

**The Capitol**

Too scared to move, she felt the pillow underneath her face getting drenched in tears. He'd fallen asleep in here and somehow him sleeping beside her was way more terrifying than him on top of her, doing unforgettable things. He'd let an arm touch her shoulder, like a lover. She hadn't slept at all. She could kill him. She had the _chance_ to kill him right now. But she would never be able to. Not even in the event that her life was threatened, which it had been for long. She _wanted _to kill him. She wanted to kill everyone here, including the avox who'd cleaned the bathroom while Snow amused himself with her. But she wasn't a murderer. Lowering herself to that level would take away the last crumbling bits of dignity she had left.

Haymitch had never been the overly romantic type. They enjoyed each other's company in bed and though they occasionally enjoyed all that lovey-dovey stuff people always talk about, walks near the forest, moonlight conversations and dining out, it was the protection she'd fallen for. As soon as they'd had their first night together Haymitch had treated her like a treasure. Not for the public eye, of course, they had had to keep up their covers and the tension between them had become a game. Another counting game. How long would the other one be willing to draw out a silence filled with suspense? One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Usually she'd broken it. Her manners were too good to let it hang and he teased her thoroughly for it. Yes, he had sometimes – if not always – been drunk and had fewer limitations. The thoughts raced in her head and she felt sick when she felt Snow's grip on her shoulder tighten. Why did she feel guilty about this? She felt like she was cheating, even though the words she'd used most the last few days were 'No' and 'Stop' and an occasional 'Please'.

She waited for him to wake up, but at the same time, she wished he would sleep forever, but as if some kind of unlucky angel heard her thoughts, she felt him stir and soon after she knew his eyes were open.

"Good morning, dear," he said with the most sickly sweet voice she'd ever heard. She closed her eyes. He knew she was awake, so she couldn't even fake sleeping, even though she was tired. Not just from the lack of sleep, but tired in general.

"Turn around," he demanded and let go of her, shortly after tracing the lines of his own seal on his shoulder. She felt like a slave-robot, because she couldn't do anything but obey him. She didn't want to meet his gaze though, those snake-eyes staring into her soul, mocking and humiliating every single part of her. The smell had taken some time to get used to, but the taste of blood when he stole kisses from her was impossible to adjust to. The first time he'd kissed her, she was scared of contracting whatever caused his mouth to bleed so much, but then she realized she didn't care. Her suicide plans had gone down the sink. She'd tried, she actually made a fair attempt at creating a noose out of a few t-shirts from her drawer, but every time she tried falling, hanging, a guard would come cut her down and tase her until she couldn't even feel the throbbing pain from the bruises as a result of the choking on her neck.

"Did you cry?" he asked her and she thought she saw some kind of sadness, maybe even regret in his eyes. She didn't reply, because she hadn't the chance to, when he sat up and slapped her across the face.

"You could have had everything," He shook his head and got out of the bed. His body were nearly as sickly thin as hers, but she knew it was the sickness killing him from the inside. If only it could do it a little faster.

"I would have taken you, if you hadn't started … fraternising with that drunk,"

"What if I didn't want you?" she asked with shock in her voice.

"You know the rules," he replied. _You don't say no to President Snow, _the silly little phrase popped up in her mind. They'd used it in the escort offices to taunt each other and have a little fun, but the macabre meaning behind it was suddenly clear to her. He smiled, his lips stretched across his face and a single drop of blood-saliva dripping down the left corner of his mouth. She knew the rules all right.

* * *

**Not far from there**

Haymitch panted and took deep, frantic breaths, as he finally was able to breathe again after having held his breath for a little longer than he cared for, to avoid being found by a pair of guards. The training they'd done before the Quell was long gone and his body was not in shape and probably could never become anything like several other men his age. The liquor had made sure of that. He never regretted starting drinking, but he regretted not quitting. Nothing to cry about now, he tried telling himself, while also fighting against tears of joy, madness and pure exhaustion. He was inside. He didn't quite remember how he got here. He had a gun, but he hadn't dared to use it yet. The knife had taken two lives, but he didn't think much of it. To him the faceless guards were no more men than the tall pillars, which he hid behind now.

The mansion itself was a labyrinth and finding the room where Effie was located could be impossible. He didn't even know if she was here. The earpiece scratted on and he heard a voice asking for him, asking where the fuck he went. He didn't recognize the voice, but there were so many voices in command, that it could be anyone. He looked around for life. The mansion was almost too silent now, like someone had called away all guards and left Haymitch to wander around without knowing anything.

* * *

**Effie's Room**

The beeping stopped his hands stroking her back. She lay stiff as a board in the bed, hadn't looked at him for an hour, put instead kept her face in the pillow, where he preferred her to be, when he did her. A big exhale came from her, relief. As he heard it he pulled the blanket off further and continued his doings with a single hand, while the other one answered his phone.

"Yes?" He said it with such authority in his voice, you wouldn't think he was a man groping a disliking, broken woman. It stopped again, this time for good.

"Here? Now?" Snow asked with a hint of … what was it? Surprise, maybe even fright in his voice. His eyes flickered to Effie, who saw the glistening rage hidden in his look as she pulled up the blanket to her neck after turning around. She couldn't wait to get to the shower, when he left. If he ever left. She wondered if it was possible to drown herself in a bathtub.

He left in a hurry. He didn't forget to lock the door though. She wanted to get up from the bed, but found that the overall pain and tiredness kept her down like she was affected by a double dose of gravity. Everything on her became heavy. She wasn't too alarmed about the phone call Snow had received, because after all it was what got him to leave and she couldn't be happier about it. The area between her legs felt like someone had stabbed her with a knife several times. She hadn't looked for a few days, but she imagined it looked like that too. Well, she knew he'd broken her open a few times, because she'd felt and seen the blood.

After countless attempts she got herself dragged to the bathroom and into the bathtub. Yes, there was blood again, but she hardly cared. The bathtub provided her comfort and rest away from the memory-loaded bed for at least a few hours, before she was abruptly awoken by her door getting kicked in. Next thing she knew she was being pulled out of the bathtub and dragged into the main area of the room. She was happy to be wearing a nightdress, because the room seemed full of people she didn't know, guards mostly. Except. There. She closed her eyes and opened them again. Her head hurt so much, she would have thought she was hallucinating, if Snow didn't step through the door the next minute to say:

"I brought you a present, dear," He kicked Haymitch over the leg with disgust, so he fell to his knees "it's freedom,"

As tired as she was. As hurtful those bruises might be. Nothing stopped her from forgetting all about not lowering herself to a murderer level, all she wanted was to see Snow suffer, so despite the obvious complaints from her abused body she threw herself toward him.

* * *

The metallic taste of blood in his mouth and the blinding pain in the left side of his mouth told him he might have lost a tooth during the fight when the guards had chased him down and beat his head into a wall. For a second that was all he could think about, then he saw the dark-skinned guard return with her from the bathroom. He barely had time to blink before he heard Snow yell and saw the same guard grab her firmly by the shoulders. She'd merely managed to draw blood even though she went straight for his face, with her sharp nails. He reminded himself of what he'd promised himself: _Rather die trying, than live with nothing. _His eyes swallowed her. He knew it would be bad, seeing her like this and the images from the security camera would likely haunt him alongside this experience forever. But then again he didn't expect forever to be longer than a few hours from now. He opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't have the words to describe exactly what he was feeling right now.

"Haymitch," Hearing her voice, that Capitol accent he at first had found so silly and tasteless, say his name made fresh tears spring to his eyes. This was not a reunion, this was an execution, and she just didn't understand it. He'd just signed both of their death certificates, but judging by the look of her, she wouldn't have held on much longer by herself anyway, he tried saying that in his head to make up just some kind of excuse for when they shot her brains out in a second.

"Eff… Listen, I'm sorr-" He was interrupted by a tase gun to his neck and he let out a scream of surprised pain. Effie joined the scream and fought against the guard to reach him, but even if she was at full health and with super-human adrenaline pumping through her body, he knew it would be impossible for a person of her size to conquer anyone. A gun was pressed to his head and the room fell silent until Snow once again took the word.

* * *

"I found this sorry excuse for a man wandering about in _our_ home, dear," Snow said. He dared her to do something. That seal on her shoulder weighed heavier than the missing tongue of an avox. It meant he owned her and she would pay with her – or possibly Haymitch's – life for mistakes, which she'd already committed quite a few of only today. From the sigh of relief when he stopped touching her this morning to her almost clawing his eyes out. All things that broke the happy little fantasy he so desperately wanted her to live out with him. All things that must be punished in one way or another. Her sigh had been punished by more of the groping. Her attack was more severe. She didn't expect to live through it and her hands itched desperately to just touch Haymitch's one last time before her time came. She wasn't afraid of dying anymore, she'd made that very clear with her suicide attempt.

"Please let him go, he's drunk, he can't think for himself," Her begging didn't even get the dangerous spark in his eyes to flicker. He licked his blood stained lips and laughed harshly at her.

"You can't be serious, Trinks. He killed five of my men before getting here, of course I'm not going to let him live,"

"Shut up. SHUT UP! Don't call me that!" The sudden breach in her normal speaking pattern shocked both Haymitch, Snow and he guard holding her.

"Let her go," Snow said to him, "Come here, honey, don't be like that," He said it almost without opening his mouth. A whisper so loud she heard it echo in her head. A part of her wanted to show Haymitch she could defy this place, this man and all he stood for. So she did. She stayed put, even when the guard behind her gently pushed her towards him. He didn't seem to pick up the gesture, but simply walked over to her and turned her back to Haymitch. The burn mark was clearly visible. He didn't even have to pull the thin strap from the nightdress down to make it clear.

"See this, Abernathy? I know you saw it fresh as a wound, but now it's just an improvement, don't you think?" he said with a mocking voice.

* * *

The light hit the mark in a way that made her skin look tired. Grey and in need of sun. How long had she been here? He didn't actually remember the last time he talked to her before he flew to 13. Something inside him screamed at him, that he was the worst … boyfriend? Lover? Companion? He never put a label on what he was, so he settled on being the worst _man _in the entire world. Couldn't it be swell to have married her? Live in 12 or heck, even the Capitol, though the law probably would forbid him that. No children. They were both too old, too busy for children. If he had just followed his instincts and proposed to her, or even just asked her to go steady with him, none of this would have happened. Snow's words came to him, like in a dream where you can't exactly make out what they mean until you wake up. And he woke up, when he heard the slight sob of pain when Snow took her by the shoulder.

"Just because you put your name on it, doesn't mean it's yours," He sounded like a little boy.

Snow just responded with laughter.

"You know, I have a gift for you too, Abernathy," he said while Haymitch didn't listen. The image of Effie as a parrot returned to him in Katniss' words. _A rare bird._

"I'm glad," He heard himself say with his usual sarcastic voice. Snow had killed his family and loved ones once, while Haymitch just sat and watched. This time, that wouldn't happen. At least he would not be alive to experience it. "It's not even my birthday,"

"In a few hours I'll have dinner, then I'll give you your present," Snow said. He didn't have to say it, everybody knew the gift he talked about was death, which right now actually seemed like a good thing.

"But I'll give you some time to catch up, I guess that'll-" _Hurt her even more, when I die, _Haymitch finished his sentence for him in his head. "- only be fair,"

Nothing was fair in this place. Nothing. The _good_ people, like Plutarch Heavensbee, weren't even fair. And the seemingly friendly and kind of cliché bad guy gesture, that Snow offered him right now was only to hurt them even more. Effie would probably have never believed them if they just told her he was dead. Maybe she'd even thought he was dead all along. He remembered Peeta and his assaults on Katniss. They could have convinced Effie of anything. Snow was still standing with one arm around Effie, but his hands had slid down to her waist. She was tiny compared even to him. Haymitch never really thought about how short she was, because he'd mostly seen her in heels and when they came off, the lights in his bedroom usually followed. She'd once told her how she felt heels and wigs and silly clothing was her armor. Not something she hid behind to put up a cover, but something she put her trust in to cheer her up. _Only in the Capitol, _he'd thought, _only here, could silk and velvet be substitutes for chainmail. _If only that would help them now.


	5. Five

(**AN: **Thank you for all the favourites, reviews and stuff, it makes me feel fuzzy inside!

One more chapter to go after this - the last chapter is a lot happier than the rest of this)

**Effie's room**

"Why did you even come here, Haymitch?" she asked as he helped her to sit on the bed. He couldn't miss the few drops of blood that had made their way to the light pink silk on the front of her nightdress. He didn't notice them before. Maybe they hadn't been there, he didn't want to know what they were caused by, but judging from their position… it wasn't hard to imagine.

When the door closed behind the last guard and they were alone, he kissed her. He hadn't realized before, but he was crying a steady flow of tears and he felt hers against his skin, when they were this close. They stayed for a while in silence, embraced in each other's arms.

"He's going to kill you…" she said with a tiny voice trying to reason with the fact.

"I know, sweetheart," Haymitch tried to keep his voice soft and gentle not to scare her, but his imminent death made his voice break and crack as he talked. He ran a hand through her hair, not knowing whether it was to calm himself or her.

"It's okay. There is help on the way," he tried saying, but he couldn't get the lie to sound even remotely plausible.

"You're lying. Please don't lie to me, Haymitch," she said as he touched her cheek, her skin seemed rougher than the soft milky skin he'd touched last time. She wasn't wearing make-up and though he'd seen her without it before she looked so much younger than she was. Not necessarily good thing, since he thought right now she looked like a famished child. If she were less clean she'd look like a district 16-year old going to the reaping.

"When did they take you?" he asked and let his hand rest on top of hers.

"I can't keep track of the time anymore, Haymitch…" she said with sudden desperation in her voice. She'd stopped crying and the redness around her eyes brought out the mesmerizing shade of blue, she often covered with lenses to match her fashion.

"That's okay," he said and padded her hand a few times. Never had he been much of a comforter, it was usually her putting her arms around him, when he woke up next to her flailing the knife. A memory came to him, well a lot did, they say your life races past you before you die, none of the memories were good ones right now, though. But one of them was especially tinged with guilt.

"I'm sorry for that time I cut you," he blurted out and for a second she seemed to be near laughing.

"That's _years _ago Haymitch, please don't tell me you still think of that, I shouldn't have woken you up so suddenly,"

"Yeah, but now I've apologized," he said firmly.

A small apology for a years of him nagging on her as much as he could, trying to push her over the edge. He hated her when he first met her and when he succeeded in making her mad, he'd felt good. If he had known back then what person was hidden behind the manners and make-up, he would have bought her drink instead of spilling it on her skirt.

* * *

After a while he asked her about what Snow had done to her and she reluctantly told him her entire story. Since she'd just told _him_ not to lie, she wouldn't either, even though the truth wasn't pretty. He told her in return how life in district 13 was. How the Capitol had bombed district 12 and there was nothing left except the houses in Victors Village. His hand didn't leave hers during this. Her mind was filled with a dark mixture of depression, rage and defeat. Snow wouldn't let her die. She'd hoped so, sometimes, that he'd be so rough with her she'd die from pain or internal bleeding or anything really. And now he was going to kill Haymitch, possibly with her watching – most likely with her watching. To show her, that she didn't have a choice. _You don't say no to President Snow. _She wanted to hit herself in the head, when the phrase began repeating itself over and over in her mind.

"How is Katniss and Peeta?" she asked. She never really cared for her tributes, mostly because if she did, she would be devastated each time they lost, but these two had shown to be Victors. Like Haymitch.

"They're good, alive – at least the last time I saw them, Peeta took some hijacking, but he's getting better," Haymitch replied without going into much detail.

"Seems like you got your share of the mental department too," he pointed out and looked away from her puzzled eyes.

"Mitch, I never knew it was you. Not until the guards shot that robot-thingy, if I had known I wouldn't have yelled. I was scared. There was this man, who… You know, often was … with me and he kept telling me you were dead,"

"I know, it's okay, Beetee and I just…"

"Beetee? I knew it was him who built it, he's so nice!" Effie said and part of her old bubbly self came to the surface. She always did love praising other people, even when they didn't deserve it. She knew how it felt to not get compliments and they were free to give out. Even just a '_Oh that shirt looks great on you,' _or '_Those shoes make your legs appear even slimmer'. _ She smiled. It felt almost weird and way too easy to do so, but the smile gave her relief, not from the physical pain, but from the torment and depression inside. She wanted him to smile as well. She loved when he forgot to be sarcastic and bitter and just smiled – it was like watching a fish out of water.

* * *

And he did. He couldn't help it. This situation was so terrible that there was nothing to do about it. He couldn't even try to make a run for it. The only way out was that one door, where a guard most surely was positioned outside.

"Look at the mess we made, Trinks," he said as his face nearly cracked in half showing where the tooth was missing from the rough treatment by the guards. He began to laugh a small laughter and wrapped his arms around her as his laughter slowly turned back into tears. She gently caressed his hair and let him cry, he could feel her heart beating way too fast.

"We didn't make this mess, Snow did," she said firmly without a single emotion in her voice.

* * *

Time went and desperation began building up inside her. Sometimes they'd sit in silence; sometimes they'd share a memory, a compliment or a fear. The other one would listen and comfort or maybe smile at a glimpse from their life together. Effie had to lay down after about an hour due to the pain. Haymitch had her head in his lap. It felt nice lying here with him and even though it was only a false, limited type of safety, it was there. It was the same desperate feeling she had when she watched their tributes rise in the tubes and into the arena. The same desperation, that made her heart jump when the countdown reached zero and the Games started. Though this games was soon over, it was basically the same. Only one of them would come out alive and Snow intended it to be her.

"I wish we'd gotten married," she said and sighed, looking up at him through half closed eyes. She could sleep right here, right now and never wake up. Maybe she could die from sadness when he was dead.

"If we survive this, Trinks, if something happens, like a meteorite or something, I'll marry you and live with you until we get old … And maybe raise some geese,"

"Are you proposing?"

"Well, what do I have to lose?"

"I'd marry you, Haymitch," she said with a sincerity to her voice, at least she hoped so, her emotions were hard to channel through her voice now, where all she wanted to do was scream and jump out the window – had there been one in the room.

"You're just saying that because I'm about to get hanged, but that's fine, Eff,"

"You're such a pessimist,"

"Hard not to be, Trinks,"

* * *

If Snow had a plan about making it worse for her, it worked. Haymitch nearly _heard _her tears as the guards reopened the door and led them through the mansion. Haymitch was placed in a pair of handcuffs, but Effie had her hands free. They didn't consider her a threat. He did everything he could to think of some kind of plan. Maybe not one that could save them, but something that would spite the president would be almost as good. They were led to a dining room, where a meal stood half eaten. Haymitch always hated seeing food go to waste like that. In the districts it would feed an entire family for a week. Snow sat in a high-backed chair like a king at the end of the table. He was obviously done eating. Effie put her hand in Haymitch's and he squeezed it tightly in his own, awkwardly limited hand. His heart was racing so fast he feared it might jump right out of his chest and run away. There were large windows in here, which allowed the dim light of the beginning evening outside to float in and make the scene seem very movie-like. Like a horror, the suspense almost killing the audience, because everybody knows what's going to happen, but no one wants to be the first person admitting it.

"You look beautiful this evening," Snow said to Effie and Haymitch subconsciously grabbed even tighter around the delicate fingers between his.

"Say goodbye to your little friend now," he demanded of her and a guard took her around the already bruised shoulders and pulled her away from him. His hand felt incredibly empty now where he had literally nothing to hold on to. She screamed his name, but he didn't hear it. His brain was shutting down preparing for the cool muzzle to hit his temple. Only this didn't happen. The screams didn't stop and they weren't just from Effie anymore. He realized there was no one holding him anymore, no guards around him. Had there been glass shattering? He hadn't heard it. It all happened way too fast for him to process. Then he felt a pang of pain and heard another scream only to realize it was his own. He fell to the floor and the pain grew in intensity.

* * *

"Haymitch, we have to get out of here," He heard her voice say.

"Haymitch, listen to me. Something exploded, we have to go! You're hurt," Haymitch felt her hands trying to get him up, but he couldn't. He couldn't even move. He located the pain and tried to reason with what caused it. It was in his lower stomach and he felt blood making his shirt cling to his skin.

"Get down!" she cried and threw herself on the ground beside him. Another explosion followed and he heard the walls and ceiling crumbling. He heard her scream out in pain shortly after.

"Effie, what the fuck is happening?" he asked through the noise of people outside screaming, crying and the general panic. She coughed violently. He knew she was sensitive to dust and it seemed like the room was full of it now. Somehow that made him want to get out more than the two explosions. He tried putting one knee to the floor and hoisting himself up.

"Effie, the handcuffs, I need to…" She looked around. One of the guards or president Snow himself had stayed very long after the first explosion from outside. He heard her starting to weep.

"I can't find them Haymitch, there's no keys," she said desperately and fell to her knees on the carpet. He realized she wasn't unhurt either, with a large gash across her face making her look like a Halloween party gone horribly wrong. She had to have no or at least impaired vision on her left eye, which seemed to have been sliced right open, possibly by a shard of glass. He forced himself up, though it was hard without his hands.

"Alright, alright, calm down. Effie, hell, you're losing blood," She looked so pale and her nightdress had turned a crimson colour. The bloodstain he'd noticed earlier was masked up by the matching blood from above and it was no longer easy to identify it.

"Let's get out of here, Trinks," he said and tried to ignore the screaming pain from his stomach.

* * *

**District 13**

"You promised me something, Haymitch," she said with a smile containing a thousand secrets. The scar across her face had faded to nothing, but she had no vision on her left eye and would probably never get to see through it again.

"I promise a lot of people a lot of things," Haymitch replied and ran a finger over her cheek, feeling the softness and colour returning to her. She felt greater than she had in a long time. They had been lucky. Even Haymitch's theory of a meteorite seemed more plausible than what had actually happened. The explosions, the rebel attack right at the minute the guard was ready to pull the trigger and end Haymitch's life. The guards and Snow had escaped right away, but Haymitch had been shot by a panicked guard from the other side of the room. The bullet went clean through and didn't hit anything, but he'd fallen and she wasn't about to just leave him there, when the second explosion came she was hit by a large piece of glass in her face, which had eliminated her vision almost instantly and broken her nose.

"Never mind," she said with a low voice and kissed him, "Coin sent a message about meeting her at 3 in command,"

"You alone or me too?"

"She didn't state in her message, but I guess she means us," Us. It felt really good to be able to use that term. About herself and Haymitch. They seemed like the most unlikely couple and

"She just wants to talk about planning … You know, his… Katniss asked for me, apparently," Effie felt bad about it. Yeah she'd wanted to murder him out of his socks, when he said he'd kill Haymitch, but Snow had also shown her generosity. He'd taken her out of the moist, dark cell and put her into a room with a shower and light and a bed and offered her a lot of things for her love. That he forced her and felt like he owned her was probably just part of a psychosis or something. She knew Haymitch on the other hand was unforgiving, he looked forward to seeing the man dead, arrow through the heart or wherever.

"Coin doesn't like you," Haymitch warned her "I think she's only letting you off this easy because Katniss put you on her list of immunity,"

"I don't need Coin to like me," Effie said and straightened out the shirt. She hated these clothes. She missed the colours and fashion from the Capitol. The wigs and the glamour. These clothes fit her funny and the shoes were horribly flat, making her look like a small child and bringing out all the imperfections in her legs, that she'd worked very hard on a treadmill to obscure. Haymitch didn't seem to mind, because she knew he'd comment on it if he did. He couldn't leave her alone about such things. She opened the door and waited for him to get moving and together they went to command to receive orders, like a couple of soldiers without armor.


	6. Six

(**AN: **I've been watching so much Pokémon lately you wouldn't believe it. So … slow update, sorry! This is the definite last chapter of this and it isn't as grim as the others, I promise!

Also: I've been reading a lot of Hayeffie on here and I realize that a lot of you guys have different views on what happens 'inside' Effie. A lot of you want her to change, to _hate _the Capitol. I disagree with that, because I'm kind of thinking about what I would do if I was 'forced' to move from Denmark because of a war and I would still love the place to death and eat Danish food, wear Danish clothes and all that. I know this is rambling, but just wanted to put it out there.

Thank you for reviews, messages, favourites and alerts – everything!)

**District 12, Victors Village**

"Do you remember?" She asked. She didn't finish her question. It was often like that now, she'd trail of and stare into space while reliving some vivid memory. Haymitch drank to keep the sight of her blank eyes away and put the bottle down violently to shake her out of it.

"Remember what Effs?" He asked knowing she wouldn't reply. Instead she just got up and looked out the window. It was a rainy afternoon, but the lights in Katniss and Peeta's house were on and the rain made everything smell fresh. It hadn't been good for her to watch Snow die. She'd actually been worse of after the experience, where she'd clung to Haymitch with intensity. Maybe because she had chosen for herself to go visit him. When Katniss shot the arrow at Coin, Snow was taken back into the rose garden, but the bruises and injuries from resisting the rebels and the explosion had killed him shortly after, since he was given no medical attention. Effie and Haymitch had been there, watching him from a safe distance, while he drew his last breaths. He remembered her crying afterwards. She wasn't even happy. He never understood. He'd had to refrain from laughing out loud, while the rebel soldiers carried the body away. Then again he had been drunk and Effie was a bit more sensitive than he was. They'd moved to District 12 when the rebuilding was starting and isolated themselves in the big house in Victors Village.

"Are bombs and meteorites very alike, Haymitch?" she said while they walked to Katniss and Peeta's for dinner the next day.

"Why are you thinking about that?" he asked with a slight chuckle and took her hand and knocked on the door with the other.

"Well are they?" she asked firmly, demanding an answer.

"I guess they're very different, Effie… I don't know why you want to know," Was this some kind of trick? Where did she want to go with it?

"Never mind then…" she sighed and if the door didn't open in front of them Haymitch would have taken her by the shoulders and asked for an explanation. Her tone sounded sad and disappointed, like someone just told her, her entire family died.

"Hey Peeta," Haymitch grumbled and shook his hand. They grew up fast those little devils.

He slept terribly that night. The nightmares, which he actually had kept away for a while, had returned full power and a very clear memory came to him from the hours before what he thought was going to be his execution. A memory so full of hopelessness he almost felt he was about to die, when somehow his sleeping, subconscious brain told him the answer to maybe some of their problems.

"The meteorite!" he said loudly and sat up in the bed so fast that he felt his back crack. Effie stirred beside him and turned around to see what was going on. She'd been very silent all night, sleeping with barely any breath. Sometimes he feared she'd die in her sleep.

"Haymitch, what are you doing?" she asked and reached up her hand to touch the stubble on his cheek. He felt an urge to laugh as she did.

"Nothing sweetheart, go back to sleep, it's going to be a big, big, big day tomorrow," he said using his teasing Capitol accent. She shook her head and cuddled in closer to him and went back to sleep.

* * *

**District 12, City Square**

If he had to do it, it would have to be done right. There were so many points where they were different and this was most likely another one of them. Where Haymitch had never dreamt of marrying anyone, Effie had surely been planning her wedding since she was old enough to think. He wasn't very romantic, but going after some of the shows he'd watched in a half drunken state on Capitol television during the games, when he couldn't watch anymore death, a proposal required three things: roses, sweets and a ring. In his case a large dose of numbing alcohol might have to be the fourth thing, before he even dared facing her with this.

He'd bought some candy at the general store, he didn't know what to get her. He had never seen her eat candies. So he went back in and bought a bag of apples as well, he'd seen her eat plenty of those. People looked at him, but it would all make sense to them in a while, he thought. There was not a single rose in the town, but after a while of looking he realized that Effie wouldn't enjoy roses anyway. Not after her time with Snow and his fake smell of blood and roses. He bought her the most colourful bouquet he could find. It looked horrible to him.

The ring was an entirely different matter. He'd gotten up early to steal one of her rings for size reference, but her jewellery box was so organized he didn't dare at all. So he kind of tried it on his pinky finger and decided that it fit until the middle of _his _nail and that had to be enough for a comparison to the one he was about to buy. He stood in front of a clerk, who'd surely grown tired of him five minutes ago when he told him about his alternative form of measurement. His lack of fashion sense limited him to look desperate at the clerk for guidance.

"I want something kinda… Pretty and maybe… You know… With a sparkly-sparkle thing," Haymitch said vaguely and looked over the selection of rings in the soft, black foam in front of him. Most of them were really simple with just a single stone or maybe a pattern. His eyes fell on a ring in a dusty purple colour with a delicate glittering butterfly in the far left corner and he pointed to it.

"Maybe that one, she'd like that," Haymitch said.

"Mr Abernathy, that ring is usually for children,"

"So what? I want it," He knew Effie wasn't very well liked in District 12, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He wasn't well liked either, never had been, so it didn't bother him. He knew it bothered her a bit though, she was usually friends with everyone.

"I guess the Capitol fashion is still strange," The clerk shook his head and Haymitch tried on the ring on his little finger. It fit to the scratch her pink flower ring had made in his nail this morning, so he guessed it'd fit her too.

"Can you put this in one of those boxes?" he asked and gave the ring back to the clerk.

"Make it pretty, please," It had to fit the woman he'd give it too right? He smiled. Before he went back he bought some food for the geese they'd started raising and a bottle of good cognac. If it was going to be fit for a celebration or to drown the humiliation, he hadn't decided yet.

* * *

**District 12, Victors Village**

A light rain had started again as she was preparing dinner. Peeta stood by her side. He'd been giving her lessons in cooking since she came here. When she moved in with Haymitch she'd never even boiled an egg. Now she was able to bake a simple loaf of bread and even make a decent stew mostly on her own. It made her proud. It gave her something to do. In return she modelled for him for paintings. Today they tackled a chicken. Haymitch had been gone all day, but that wasn't unusual for him. She understood. Sometimes _she _didn't even want to be in the same room as herself. He was usually home at dinner time, drunk or miserable on these days. Today seemed different. He was almost ecstatic when he came home and he ate the chicken and potatoes with great joy and complimented her hair, which she had been growing out for a while, since there was a pronounced scarcity of colourful wigs in the district.

As they reached the end of the meal he asked her if she'd like to take a walk. She said she wasn't too keen on it in the rain, but he insisted on her joining him on at least the porch. She sighed. Who knew what he wanted her to do out there. Look at an egg those stupid geese had laid or something. It showed to be so much more.

"Haymitch… I …" For once she was lost for words and for once Haymitch's sarcasm couldn't cover the blush on his cheeks. He'd given her the large bouquet of flowers. He didn't remember where he'd put the candy or the apples for that sake, so he just tried recalling what those romantic guys did in those shows from the Capitol. Shows he _knew _Effie had seen and glorified. He wanted to do it perfectly. He went down on one knee. She let out an excited shriek.

"Effie Trinket," He tried keeping a soft voice, but he was horribly nervous. He was way, way too sober to be proposing to this lady right now. Maybe he should have

"Will you marry me?" He opened the little box with the silly butterfly ring and showed it to her, awaiting her approval.

She had to count to six to believe what he just asked. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

"Guess that meteorite finally hit the ground," she said teasingly and let him put the ring on her finger.

"Yeah, they're still cleaning up after it," Haymitch said and kissed her gently on the lips. "That's a yes right?" he asked and suddenly sounded nervous. She laughed at him and gave him a kiss in reply.

_**~ The End**_


End file.
